Spike and Willow Eventually
by Practicing4aPulitzer
Summary: Set after Lover's Walk. Both Spike and Willow regret being "love's bitch" but they have very different ideas about how to fix their mistakes. Spike's way involves a lot more bloodshed than Willow who just wants to forget her silly crush on Xander and get her Oz back.
1. Chapter 1

After "Lover's Walk"

THE BRONZE

Willow surveyed the dance floor with wide, sad eyes. There was Buffy rhythmically pivoting her hips against some handsome guy's pelvis. And there was Xander laying the goofy charm on a couple of girls who were clutching sweating drinks like lifelines. Willow even saw Cordelia surrounded by her faithful sycophants, no doubt oohing and ahhing over the bandage around her midsection or bashing Xander for cheating. Everyone seemed to be really enjoying themselves.

Everyone but Willow, that is. Willow was decidedly not enjoying herself. It wasn't anyone's fault but her own. Maybe she was a bit of a masochist coming to the Bronze while the wounds of her break-up with Oz were still so fresh. But Buffy's argument had seemed reasonable enough penetrating through Willow's teary eyed stupor: Would it have been better to sulk at home? Well, maybe. Then she could have eaten a whole tub of ice cream without fear of judgment. It wasn't like her parents ever asked her what was going on in her life. They wouldn't notice if she got a dozen facial tattoos and a piercing, let alone if she ate her weight in guilt and sadness—especially since they were never home. She sighed. She couldn't help but envy Cordelia and Xander's resilience and some less-than-friendly part of her hoped they weren't nearly as happy as they seemed in the wake of their breakup. Even Buffy seemed rather Zen, considering that Angel and she had broken up (sort of) less than a week ago—and on the clearheaded advice of Spike, no less. Would wonders never cease?

She repressed another sigh and rested her chin on her fist. Maybe going home wasn't such a bad idea. Of course, she dreaded the idea of going home _alone_. Living on the Hellmouth wreaked havoc on nocturnal travel plans. How had she survived for sixteen years in a town of mystic energy, vampires, and ghouls without the Slayer as her best friend? It perplexed her to no end. She tried to catch Buffy's eye meaningfully, but Buffy kept turning and swaying with the music. Willow shifted her weight on her stool, almost falling to the ground in the process.

"Easy there," a male voice cautioned from behind. A large hand steadied her.

"Thanks," she muttered miserably.

"Aw, what's the matter?"

"Nothing," she lied. And more quietly, "I'll be fine."

"Big plans, then?" the voice asked. "I'd cancel them if I were you." The man slid into view.

Willow gasped. Hadn't this vampire caused enough trouble for Willow with the numerous murder attempts the relationship-sabotaging-kidnapping?

Spike smiled. "I wouldn't recommend calling out to your Slayer." He examined a black nail nonchalantly. "The way I see it, you scream, I kill you, the Slayer gets off a nice one-liner and I—" his face morphed, "Well, then I kill her too."

Willow couldn't breathe, let alone scream. She swallowed thickly. "W-W-What do you want? Another spell? I can do another spell."

"See, Red, that's why I like you. You're the overly-helpful type." He reached out to grab her arm and she flinched. Spike smiled, his golden eyes gleaming with malice and amusement. He stroked her wrist. "Why so timid and afraid?" he singsonged, clearly relishing the moment. Willow shuddered, hating to give him the satisfaction of her fear, yet unable to stop her body's natural reaction to imminent death.

"What do you want?" she managed through a surge of hot tears.

"The Slayer dead. A solar eclipse. A Playboy." He leaned in close, right next to her ear. "And fun. We could all do with a little more fun." He pulled away and leered.

"What about—what about Drusilla?" Willow asked, casting around for a subject, any subject that would lengthen the time until he finished toying with her and asked her to do something awful—or worse, needed a snack.

Spike reassumed his human guise. "Now, why'd you have to bring her up, hmm?"

"S-sorry, I just thought—I just—I"

"Oh, stop the bloody stammering. I've been nothing but nice to you. No threats. Well, not that many. Just talking."

"You're a vampire, " she hiccupped. "Your very existence is a threat to me."

"Thanks, pet. That makes me feel all warm inside; it really does." He smiled and sat on the stool across from her. His back was to the dance floor and the Slayer. With his tell-tale, white-blonde hair and black, leather duster, he wasn't exactly inconspicuous. It didn't bode well for Willow that Spike felt confident enough to ignore Buffy.

"What are you having?" Spike asked, reaching for Willow's glass. He sipped the drink and scowled. "Living on the wild side, aren't you, Red?" He shoved the water across the table and it sloshed into Willow's lap. She let out a small Eek and fast as anything, Spike had a hand on either side of her head. With one brutal flourish, he could kill her. Her heart thrashed in her chest violently, perhaps clamoring for a few more beats before he snapped her neck.

"What I'd say about screaming, Red?"

She shook her head as more tears streamed down her face

"I said," he whispered. "Don't."

Willow nodded, hoping against hope she'd be saved.

Spike took his hands away from her neck and slumped in his chair.

"My murder threats doing your head in, then?" he asked with scientific interest. He seemed to expect an answer.

Willow nodded.

"Good, 'cause there's a lot more where that came from. I'm the Big Bad, you know." He studied the table for a moment and sighed. "You know, Angelus really had a thing for the psychological torture. The colorful threats and bollocks. The killing of your best friends in front of you, your pets and all that. It was a real art for him. Me, I simply can't be knackered. Too roundabout, I say."

"That's a relief, I suppose," Willow managed.

"Hardly. I'll wring no hands over simply killing ya. D'you know how I got my name?" He cocked his head to the side.

"Railroad—spikes," she squeaked.

"That's right. And it just so happens, I've got a couple right here." He jostled his duster and Willow heard metal clanking.

She gulped.

"Now, I'm going to give you some options, here, Red. You _are_ going to give me what I want. Can't change that. But the manner, well, I leave that up to you." He smiled. "But first, we need to get out of here. I do believe this song is about to end."

Willow's stomach turned to lead; she had been banking on a song change for Buffy to stop her socializing and start Slaying. Spike grabbed Willow by the elbow and almost lifted her from her seat.

"Off we go," he directed. Willow caught one last glance of Buffy, who was smiling at something Xander said, totally oblivious to her best friend's abduction, just like she'd been totally oblivious to her pain.

Spike manhandled Willow into the alley and little whimpers escaped her lips. He turned her brusquely and slammed her none too gently against the wall, his arms creating a cage on either side of her head. She turned her face away from his, shrinking into herself, hoping against hope that it would all be over quickly.

"I think you promised me a spell," Spike crooned, clearly enjoying his domination of the scared witch.

"I thought, I thought you were going to t-t-torture Drusilla," Willow whispered into her shoulder.

"Nah, changed my mind. Staked her. Bit ironic since she thought I'd gone all soft." Spike smiled and assumed a ruminative expression. "Miss her. Can't say I don't, but I teamed up with the Slayer for Dru. Made pacts with my enemies to get her to safety and how does she repay me? A chaos demon?" He shook his head. "What I need is a proper killing spree. I'll be the scourge of the New World." He wagged his eyebrows. "People will talk."

Willow marshaled her bravery. "What do you need me for?"

"I'll need a companion," Spike answered as if this ought to have been self-evident.

"Wha—" Willow began, but Spike bent his head to hers and muttered, "Just go with it."

He smashed his lips against hers in a painful facsimile of a kiss, brutishly kissing away her cry of surprise. Willow struggled against him instinctively, but he enveloped her in his jacket, so her squirming wasn't evident to an outsider. In desperation, she bit down on his lip as hard as she could.

He jerked away, putting his hand to his mouth. He smiled. "Biting, Red? That's vampy foreplay." He leaned in again, but Willow batted him away, her shock eclipsing her terror.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"The Slayer and the whelp just went by. Probably looking for you. Thought we'd just blend in." He looked around. "They're gone."

"Is this another you-haven't-had-a-woman-in-weeks moments, because I haven't changed my mind about that. There will be no 'having' of any kind. And Xander's not a whelp. And I won't be scourging anything. No 'scourging the New World' for me. I'm a scourge-free kind of girl. In fact, I'm a whatever-the-opposite-of-scourge-is kind of girl. Happiness and delight and—"

Spike pressed his hand against Willow's mouth.

"Are you always this gobby?"

Willow nodded.

"Well, stop. I haven't had a bite to eat yet, and I'm short on patience. I'd ask you to stay here so I could nip in for a drink, but I don't think you would. And you're just the kind of tasty morsel some other vampire would take a whack at and then I'd be without a witch."

Willow said nothing, trying to play down her fear. She noticed a broken blender on the heap of trash mere inches from her hand.

Spike continued conversationally. "I was going to kidnap you _and_ the monkey boy again—keep some continuity in my nefarious schemes; I could kill him if you got all bleeding inept—but I got bloody bored waiting for him to come over. The kid's got no luck with the ladies. How he snagged the cheerleader—ruddy luck, that was. But I've decided. Hang all the plans. Go with your gut. And my gut said, Snag that lonely, little witch. So I did." Spike smiled. "I'm a new vampire! I walk around in the lamplight now." He took a step away from Willow in order to turn slowly in the glow of the streetlamp. "And I'll be needing a partner-in-crime. The Butch Cassidy to my Sundance Kid. The Riddler to my Joker. Bloody hell! We'll be the Menendez brothers—only since our parents are dead, we'll kill _other_ people's parents!"

"My parents aren't dead," Willow interjected. "They're at a conference."

Spike rolled his eyes. "I'm not talking about you, Red. _We'd_ just fall in love, you'd leave me for a Were-slug—trust me, they exist—and the whole vicious cycle would start all over." He paused, then laughed. "But wouldn't it be funny! The Slayer staking you, her best friend in all the world. Heh, that's not bad, actually. That's not bad at all."

"No. Bad. Very bad. Not good at all!" The words stumbled from Willow's mouth, falling over each other in their hurry to dissuade Spike. "Let's backtrack to Plan A. I'm a Plan B—no, I'm like Plan Z! I'm not even in the plan!"

"Plan A, right. Funny you should say that since Plan A is _Angelus_."

"Angel?" Willow repeated. "But he's—he's good. He got his soul back, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember. Can't say whether I like him worse when he goes all Anne Rice on me or when he gets all grr and steals m'girl. Although, with Dru out of the picture, there's nothing stopping us being mates again."

"Only you trying to kill Buffy every week," Willow pointed out.

"When you do your little spell, me and Angelus'll being trying to kill Buffy every week together. Who am I kidding? We'll kill Buffy first thing. Angelus's big mistake last time was all the villainous monologue-ing and elaborate set-ups." He paused, then added, "And the whole end-the-world bit." Willow couldn't help but agree. Spike continued, "I say, Kill the bitch and move on. There's plenty of girls squirming to be his plaything who aren't also equipped to kill—"

Willow smashed the broken blender over Spike's head. He growled in pain and Willow ran like hell, screaming.

"Help! Buffy! Xander! Help me! HEELLLLLPPPPPP!"

_Spike reeled from the blow, immediately assuming his game face. The sodding witch hit him! Hard! It was about as shameful as the time the Slayer's bloody mother anointed him with an axe. He watched the little redhead run, screaming fit to bring down the heavens. A blender? She'd brought down William the bleedin' Bloody with a blender. He had reached a new low. Hell, the powers-that-be had been forced to create a new low just so he could take up residence there. His reputation was hanging by a thread as it was. The shame of being a soft vampire was almost everlasting unless you did something dramatic. Probably why Angelus felt the need to suck the world into hell a few months back. Making up for his loving and shagging the Slayer. Spike shuddered at the thought of smoochies with the tart. He needed his own comeback. Not hell-sucking stuff or nothing. Just enough to establish that he wasn't one to be trifled with. _I've killed two Slayers and more humans than I can remember,_ he reminded himself. _I killed the Anointed. I've gambled with Dracula and staked Drusilla. Billy Idol copied _my_ look, goddammit._ He sighed. Not enough people knew about him staking his sweetheart. That had been a good start, but he needed to get the word out. Dru had been his one weakness. He remembered the time the Slayer had come this close to staking Dru's perfect unbeating heart and he'd let the girl go instead of ripping her face off to save his princess. Should've let the Slayer have her. Would've saved him some heartache. Spike had thought being love's bitch was alright, but…God, he missed Dru. All her talk of the stars, dolls, and puppies. No, that wasn't right thinking. The Judge had insulted Spike like a punch to the head with all those accusations of humanity and love. He was a new vampire. With a new mission. Get the witch. Get Angelus. Get to raising hell. Figuratively speaking, of course. _

"And then what?" Buffy asked, her breath hitching in her throat.

Willow squirmed. "Well, he, um, hid me in his coat as you guys went by and then he was talking about Angelus and the Joker having a riddle and Xander and Cordy being a fluke because Xander can't flirt and how he was going to kill our parents and oh, Buffy, I thought I was going to die, you know?"

"Occupational hazard of being a Sunnydale rez," Xander quipped, but he rubbed Willow's shoulder soothingly. Both he and Willow had forgotten their new no-touchy rule in the face of Willow's almost death. "Hey wait a second! What was that about my woman-catching skills?"

"But you got away, Will," Buffy reminded Willow softly. "You got away." They were all silent for a moment, contemplating the horrible what-ifs. "By the way, how did you get away? Magic?" Buffy raised a brow and gave Willow a half-smile.

Willow ducked her head sheepishly. "A blender. Just—" she gestured vaguely, "crashed it over his head and ran away."

"And he didn't run after?" Xander asked, shaking his head. "Mr. Goal-Oriented sure has fallen off the wagon. Bad break-up will do that, I guess. Why, back in the good ole days, he loved the helpless-running-girl bit. Hey, Will, d'ja trip and fall?"

Willow rolled her eyes. "I was more concerned with the whole not-tripping-and-falling-part of the running experience."

Xander nodded. "Right, right." He turned to Buffy. "So, when do we stake Lieutenant Bleach?"

Buffy grabbed up a handful of stakes and sighed. "There is no we, Xander. I'm the Slayer. You're a civilian." She put her hands to her temples, mentally beating herself up. She should have been there. Spike never would have put his vampy hands on Willow if she hadn't been working through her own romantic issues on the pelvis of Mr. Blandsome the Disposable Jockhead. And whose fault was that? Angel's. For loving her. And Spike's for making her see reason. Stupid vampires. She continued. "You and Willow are always having near-death experiences because of me."

"Yeah, but I'm on first-name terms with the white light at the end of the tunnel," Xander joked.

"Not funny," Buffy scolded.

"I think—I think Buffy's right on this one," Willow said quietly. Xander frowned at her. "I mean, not about the whole 'we're civilians' thing. We're pretty darn tootin' important to this operation, Buffy. But, well, maybe we wouldn't be kidnapped so often or, you know, have our pretty tropical fish gutted and stringed if we weren't so—I don't know. I love being your friend, Buffy, I really do. But I sometimes wish I'd read the fine print." She stole at glance at Buffy's face through her long lashes.

Tears threatened in Buffy's eyes. She blinked rapidly. "So what are you saying, Will? You don't want to be friends anymore?"

"Oh gosh no! Buffy, you're my best friend—best girl friend," she amended hastily. "I just need some time. To think. I mean, you don't have a choice and I know that. But I just want a week to go by where Spike isn't breaking bottles to smash in my face and I'm not researching how to kill yet another Big Bad out to end the world. I want to snuggle and play smoochies with Oz. I want my biggest problem to go back to being Harmony teasing me about my fuzzy sweaters. And I know I can't make all the outside forces stop, but I can stop myself, you know?" Tears slipped down her flushed cheek. "I swear, I'm not breaking up with you or anything."

Buffy swallowed against the lump in her throat. "I know," she said.

"And Xander," Willow said, turning to her best friend of a million years. "You don't have to choose between me and Buffy." She hung her head. "I know how that will end."

"With Buffy kicking my ass for choosing you?" Xander asked. "Sorry, Buffy," he added. "The whole since-kindergarten-thing."

Buffy gave a weak, watery smile. "No, guys. You deserve a lifetime of normal."

"Not a lifetime!" Willow assured. "I was thinking, more like a weekend. Me and Xander could watch movies like we used to and I'll leave messages on Oz's answer machine until he takes mercy on me. It's going to be a boring, miserable weekend, I swear. Just, without the vamps or the demons or the—well, what else is there?"

"Werewolves?"

Willow shot Xander an annoyed glance. "Well, then, no Oz, either. Just me and Xander and ice cream."

Giles cleared his throat and the trio jumped in surprise—even though technically the library belonged to the librarian and they should have expected him to be there. "If I may butt into your personal life, Willow, I would recommend that you reconsider your decision."

Willow pushed her hair back from her face. "What's up, Giles. Imminent doom works the weekend shift now?"

Giles pursed his lips. "Don't be glib." He took his glasses off and wiped them with a handkerchief. "I was referring to Spike. This is the second time in a week he has found and contacted you."

"You make it sound like he's sending her a postcard," Xander quipped.

"A postcard of death," Buffy corrected.

Giles frowned. "All I mean is that Spike seems to have an unhealthy interest in Willow."

Willow pshawed. "He's tried to kill me two or three times max. He's been after Buffy since he knew of her existence."

"Yes, but Buffy isn't taking off from being a Slayer to eat ice cream with Xander," Giles pointed out.

"Which I vehemently oppose, by the way," Xander added with a lopsided grin. "I think Buffy deserves a break, too, in a yummy Xander sandwich, bread courtesy of the lovely Willow and Buffy and some ice cream for after."

Giles looked positively revolted and both Willow and Buffy hid smiles behind their hands. Trust Xander to lighten the mood.

Giles took a moment to compose himself. "We should all remain vigilant until we know exactly why Spike seems to think Willow such a worthy target."

Without intending to, Giles had rubbed against a sore spot for Willow. She was totally worthy of attention. Darn it, she was a witch with grand magics at her disposal and Spike wanted a spell done. Maybe Spike's vampy smarts sensed her potential. Besides she had re-ensouled Angelus. It only made sense that Spike thought she could break her own spell. Of course, Spike didn't actually know about her role in the spell, she didn't think. Okay, so Giles had a point. Willow wasn't exactly the most alluring girl in Sunnydale—that was a battle for Cordelia and Buffy—yet Spike had sought her out twice. She chewed her lip nervously.

"New plan. Buffy, Xander, and I will all take a break from the Slayer lifestyle together," Willow decided.

"Yay!" Xander and Buffy cheered, but Giles frowned.

"Have you not heard a word I've said?" he groused. "No vacations, no breaks. We are to research—"

"Giles, you're starting to sound a little Napoleon-y," Buffy joked.

"Napoleonic," Willow corrected at the same time Xander said, "Neapolitan." Giles flashed Xander his that longsuffering, condescending expression he reserved just for Xander's special brand of dumb. Everyone remembered "bitca."

"I think Willow's right," Buffy continued. "We do deserve a break. No vampires or demons or talk of slaying for two nights and a day. Plus, I'll be with Will, so if Spike shows up, we'll dust him."

"Yeah, and I'll be there in case one of the girls needs a jar opened," Xander said as he stood to his feet. He stretched his arms and his shirt rose to expose his flat stomach, an etching of nascent abs drawn in delicate, fine lines across his belly.

Willow had a moment of vacillation. Did she want Oz back as much as she wanted to explore that trail of dark hair leading from Xander's bellybutton to the hem of his jeans? She thought of all the stolen kisses she'd had with Xander and all the open, honest kisses she had shared with Oz. Yes, she wanted Oz back. Oz, the laconic, loving, loveable, loyal, lunarly-locked, lemony-fresh lycanthrope.

"Besides, Giles, Spike's follow-through on his plans has been pretty shoddy stuff. He's got the attention span of a gnat, it seems."

Giles seemed unfazed. Seeing that reason would not win the day, Buffy batted her eyelashes and stuck out her bottom lip. Willow grinned.

Giles sighed. "It seems I am outnumbered," he conceded. "But do be careful. Spike has killed two Slayers before and as far as I know, he does not have Angelus's penchant for playing games." A pained expression flickered in the Watcher's eyes, as he, no doubt, remembered Jenny Calendar. "If Spike wants to kill Willow, it might be more personal than just using her as a means to Buffy. So, please, take care."

"Oh, Giles, you do care," Buffy smiled, rising to hug her Watcher. Xander put his arms around the pair and motioned with his head for Willow to join in. She smiled and fastened herself to this pillar of love. To think, she'd been this close to needing a vacation from her very best friends in the whole world.

_Spike knew a good plan when he thought of one and getting the witch to take Angelus's soul was right up there with his stint in the Boxer's Rebellion or the time he decided to go for a subway ride. He smiled at the thought of spilling another Slayer's blood. Who knows, he might even turn her. A Slayer-turned-vampire could be very interesting. And Angelus could have his chit back. That made Spike think of Dru and he frowned. No thoughts of Dru. He dusted her. He was on a quest to lose all his ties to humanity. And Angelus was the least human thing Spike had ever known. And that little witch was all a part of the plan. And when he drained her—he shivered at the thought. Witch's blood. He'd never had it. Probably not as potent as Slayers' but potent enough. Maybe it was a subtler effect. He grabbed a girl from the dance floor and dragged her into the shadows. As he plunged his teeth into her creamy brown neck, he thought of Angelus, the Slayer, and the witch. Blood never tasted so good. _

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Buffy flicked through the channels for the second time in five minutes and Xander sighed dramatically.

"Can we just address the elephant in the room?" he asked, turning so he could see Willow and Buffy's faces. Buffy looked confused, but Willow looked guilty.

"I wouldn't say it's an elephant-sized issue," she argued. "More like a miniature pony. I mean, we're still thinking, 'Hey, what's a miniature pony doing in the Rosenberg living room?' but it's not quite as big as, say, an elephant might be or a giraffe." Her voice travelled up the scale. "I mean, does anybody else wonder why we settled on elephants? The blue whale is actually the biggest animal still around. Why don't we address the blue whale in the room? I mean, if there were a metaphorical blue whale in this room. Which there isn't. We've all agreed it's a pony. A miniature one that is only sort of obtrusive and in need of addressing. Someone stop me."

"Inside your head must be a scary place," Buffy observed with a smile.

Xander nodded. "You definitely have too many thoughts," he added. He smiled at Willow and she returned a more tentative version. "So, what medium-to-mythic-sized animal issue are _you_ talking about?" Xander asked.

"Which one were you talking about?" Willow rejoined.

"Only the one sitting on the coffee table making a mockery of us."

Willow glanced at the table to make sure he was being figurative. The only things there were Xander's big feet and a Highlights magazine from Willow's elementary school days. "Yeah, me too."

"And how would you put that issue into words?" Xander prodded.

"How would you?"

"Ladies first."

"Equality of the sexes."

"Men make more money that women for the same jobs."

Willow frowned, preparing herself for a gripping argument about women's rights.

"Guys," Buffy yelled. "Will one of you get the point?"

Xander looked sheepish. "Cordy hasn't said a word to me since the hospital."

"And I'm nervous our Slayer break is going to kill someone," Willow blurted out.

"Way to one-up me, Will," Xander joked, but Willow looked as apprehensive as ever she could. Xander knew her worry lines well and for a moment, he thought of kissing them away. But his imaginary soldier training had taught him the importance of discipline. Keep the custody of your thoughts, young Private. Sir, yes, sir. He turned his attention to Buffy who was trying to assuage Willow.

"But this break was your idea," she reminded her anxious friend.

Willow squirmed. "I know and it's nice. Not doing or thinking about demons and apocalypses. Only I can't stop thinking that I am keeping you from saving someone's life." Willow wrung her hands and hung her head.

Buffy patted her knee. "Will, chill with the wiggins. Faith is still around. Besides, the vamps have been pretty quiet since Spike got back in town."

"That's a whole heap of not comforting," Xander muttered darkly.

Buffy and Willow spared Xander a questioning glance and Xander continued. "What if Captain Peroxide is up to something ookie?"

"Ookie?"

"Don't question my verbage. And, speaking of ookie, Cordelia."

Buffy groaned. "She deserves to be ookie. You guys did the smoochies."

"And we both regret it!" Willow interrupted.

Xander searched his best friend's face for a moment, her large eyes, the fall of her hair around her face, all their forbidden love. "Do we?" he asked.

"Yes," Willow declared firmly. "My heart belongs to Oz. And if he forgives me, I intend to reserve these traitorous lips for him alone. Only this time they won't be so traitorous." Willow's face lit up as she had a thought. "You're out of my system now, Xander!"

"Why does that make me think of prunes and stool softener?"

Buffy and Willow laughed.

"Well, I'm happy for you guys," Buffy said. "You've figured out what you want and committed to a course."

"Well, so have you," Willow insisted.

"Oh, no. I only look like I've committed to a course. I am so not committed to anything, least of all any particular love interest I might have had and have no longer." Buffy tried to look convincing.

Xander put an arm around her shoulder. "Don't worry, Buff. We'll be back to dating in no time. You'll date a human and I'll date yet another woman who wants to kill me. What's my number now, counting Cordelia?"

"Three," Willow admitted.

Xander thought about it. "Huh, I would have said there'd been more. Guess near death experiences will do tha."

"Tell me about it," Buffy muttered.

"Fingers crossed that the next girl doesn't try to eat me. Or mate with me. Without my consent. Which I will give, if she doesn't have plans to snap my bones and suck out the marrow."

"No marrow suckage for Xander," Buffy announced and Willow giggled, "Oh darn, there go my plans.

_The trio laughed, unaware that Spike sat on the porch of the Rosenberg house listening to their little problems. When you're dead, you won't have a care in the world, he thought maliciously and the thought of their imminent deaths brought a smile to his face and joy to his heart. The night was still young and his temple didn't throb so much from the blender fiasco. Half formed plans danced at the edge of consciousness, but he swatted them away. No plans. Just the call of the blood. He pulled a cigarette from his coat pocket and rustled around for his lighter. He inhaled slowly, his eyes closed, focused on the bitter tang of tobacco on his tongue. He released the smoke and tried to catch the haze in his mouth before it dissipated. "Talk to me, blood," he singsonged as he rested his head on the porch rail. He stared up at the night sky, the only sky he knew with any intimacy. The moon hung low, like fruit on an invisible bough, full and ripe. The moon. The moon. Wolf-boy sure did love the witch, didn't he? She had reeked of wolf that night in the factory—the scent a little confused by the smell of the Slayer's boy. What was the mutt's name? Oz. It had some edge, some mystery to it. Much better than Angel. Not so menacing as Spike. Oz. So the witch liked danger. Oh, he'd give her danger. His blood almost howled. He'd give the little witch more danger than she could take. He flicked his cigarette on the lawn. He did enjoy an inner monologue. He smiled, his fangs extended. He looked in the window at the happy Slayer and her Slayerettes. He sang low._

"_Who's afraid of the big bad wolf, the big, bad wolf, the big, bad wolf?"_

Giles polished his glasses once again, a sure sign of imminent doom. Willow clutched her hands in her lap, feeling half-moon dimples forming on her palms.

"It seems once again that your personal lives have crossed into the mystical world and now, innocent lives are endangered."

Xander's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Did Cordelia finally turn into a real life harpy? Do those exist?"

Giles's withering glare silenced Xander and tugged the smile from his lips. "This is _not_ about that dreadful girl," he insisted impatiently; his tone was tense with aggravation. "And of course, harpies exist," he added.

"What's up, Giles?" Buffy asked, spooning yoghurt into her mouth. Giles eyed the messy treat and pointedly moved a stack of ancient texts away from his teenage ward.

He turned to Willow. "I'm afraid Oz did not show up last night." Giles knitted his brows with concern.

"Did you guys have a hot date?" Xander asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Willow groaned. "Last night was the first day of the full moon."

"That is correct," Giles corroborated. "And I can only assume he was reluctant to come here because of Willow. Though it seems dreadfully irresponsible to put his feelings for you above the welfare of—well, everyone."

"Oh," Xander said. "Oh!" Realization turned to panic. "There weren't any attacks, were there?"

"Yeah, that's the last thing Oz needs right now." Buffy turned her face toward Giles expectantly.

"As far as I've heard, no." Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, which Giles quickly stifled with his next words. "But it is only lunchtime and you hardly expect someone to stumble across a dead body while it's still warm."

Xander blanched. "Way to reassure, Giles. You should be a grief counselor or something."

Giles ignored him.

Buffy pulled her backpack strap over her head. "So, what do you want me to do, Giles? Comb the woods for victims? Find Oz?"

"I presume he isn't in school today."

Buffy shrugged and they all turned to Willow.

"I didn't see him," she muttered into her lap. "He could be avoiding me though." She took a shuddering breath. "He told me he needed space. To think." She looked at Buffy. "Which could be good. He hasn't totally written me off."

"There you go, Wills," Buffy said with a sad smile. Willow smiled back, trying to quash her guilt. The new guilt. On top of the old guilt of kissing Xander. She sure had a lot to feel guilty for lately. For some absurd reason, she thought of Spike kissing her in the alley. Well, not kissing her. Crushing her lips against his for disguise purposes. Did she feel guilty about that, too? Or the fact that she hadn't told her friends everything about her brief abduction? Well, how was knowing Spike had kissed her going to help them avoid or stake him? Not one little bit. She nibbled her lip and thought of Oz, his big, green eyes looking at her with such hurt. She trembled under this weight of guilt. Oz was right. She did need him to forgive her for selfish reasons. She didn't deserve him.

But now was hardly the time for mental flagellation.

"Buffy can look for Oz. Xander and I will search the woods for, um, leftovers."

"This isn't a Thanksgiving meal, Wills," Xander reminded.

"Trust me, Willow, you don't want to see firsthand that Oz has—" Buffy didn't know how to continue.

"Gone native?" Xander suggested.

"Well, I have to do something," Willow maintained. "And Oz has made perfectly clear that he doesn't want to see me. And, sorry, Xander, but I doubt he wants to see you either."

"I get it," Buffy interjected. "I'm Swiss cheese!"

"Full of holes and kinda tasteless?" Xander asked.

"No, neutral," Buffy corrected with an eye roll. "Switzerland."

Xander shook his head. "Whatever. I'm with you, Willow."

"It could be dangerous," Giles warned.

"It's the middle of the day," Buffy pointed out. "No vampires."

"Yeah, and what's worse than—"

Giles stopped Xander's word with a glare. "Do not tempt the powers that be on the Hellmouth. A rogue werewolf is quite enough, thank you."

Xander had the sense to look sheepish. He extended a hand to Willow who had gathered up all her books. "Come on, Wills. We've got a class to ditch."

Buffy, Xander, and Willow left the library together. "Don't we have a history test?" Buffy asked.

"Yep," Willow affirmed. Xander glanced down at his friend in surprise. She had her Resolve Face on. Willow must really care about Oz, Xander recognized with a pang, to skip out on school work. He needed to get a hold of himself. No more Willow for him. Her earlobes belonged to a different guy. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder the way he'd done a hundred times before.

"If we can avoid Snyder, we'll be in the clear," he observed.

"Easier said than done, it would seem." Snyder's reedy voice accosted them from behind. The trio revolved to face their school yard nemesis. In the pecking order of vampires, demons, and prophecies of doom, Principal Snyder ranked pretty low, but that hardly put him out of the running for Most Annoying and Ill-Timed Adult Ever.

Snyder smiled. "Well, well, well, if it isn't the queen of the troublemakers herself. Miss Summers."

"Principal Snyder," Buffy rejoined, with a winning smile.

"Don't smirk at me, young lady!" he barked.

"Right," Buffy nodded. "No smirkage."

"Buffy's never smirked in her life," Willow interposed.

"Her smiles are full of respect and good-will toward all," Xander added.

Snyder peered up at the three of them. "You're acting suspicious. I cannot abide suspicious. All three of you. In my office. Now."

"But—"

"You can't—"

"NOW!" he yelled.

Buffy shot a glance at her two friends. They needed to get to the bottom of Oz's absence fast. And more importantly, make sure he hadn't been snacking. For all they knew, Oz had taken off to Los Angeles, leaving a trail of carnage behind him. Well, maybe nothing so dramatic. A trail of carnage was bound to show up on the news. Maybe a spot of carnage in some secluded wood. And they wouldn't be getting answers if they were all tied up with Snyder. She made a noble sacrifice. She raised her hands in a gesture of surrender. "Alright, Principal Snyder, you got me," she confessed.

"I knew it," he said triumphantly. He narrowed his eyes. "What is it? Ritual sacrifice? Money laundering? Littering?" He leaned in greedily, looking like a modern day Rumpelstiltskin.

Buffy leaned away. "Both. I mean, all of them. These two were trying to squirrel me to freedom. But you've caught me and I'll go quietly." Buffy hung her head. While Snyder pulled a pen from his pocket with a dramatic flourish of victory, Buffy looked up at Willow and Xander who shared expressions of confusion and amusement. She winked and jerked her head in the direction of the door. They nodded and hand-in-hand fled the building.

Willow and Xander stomped through the underbrush, wary of the clinging vegetation. So far the most horrific butchery they'd seen had involved a finch and a worm.

"So," Xander said, breaking the silence, "the good news is, it looks like Oz didn't bring his puppy chow to _this _neck of the woods."

Willow wrung her hands and said nothing, peering from left to right. Worry and nerves pinched the skin between her brows and made her lips part ever so slightly. Still, she looked determined to finish what she had started. Xander tried to imagine how he would feel if he saw Cordelia feasting on the entrails of some innocent camper. Unsurprised, he silently joked, though even in his head, the quip rang hollow.

After a few moments of quiet, Willow put a hand out to stop Xander from walking any further.

"What is it?" Xander asked, his eyes darting around for the macabre.

"I'm having a too-many-thoughts moment," Willow confided.

"So, no mauled corpses," Xander clarified.

Willow shook her head and her face crumpled in the beginnings of a sob. Xander pulled her into a hug.

"You've got to stop beating yourself up," he urged, rubbing her back in large, comforting circles. Willow was taking this guilt thing to astronomically crazy levels.

"It's just," Willow sniffed. "I don't know what I hope to find out here. A horrible part of me hopes he slipped up. Not killing a person or anything. Maybe a poor bunny. Then we'd be even and he'd forgive me. But the rest of me knows that the reason Oz is even in this situation is because of me." She hiccupped on her words.

"Your thoughts are definitely in the deep end of the awful pool," Xander admitted, pulling Willow away from him so he could see her face. Willow shuddered. Xander found it very important to reassure her. "Oz will forgive you," he promised. A tear had caught in Willow's upper lashes, clear and fragile.

"How do you know?" she asked.

"He's a smart guy. I'm no Einstein and I'd love you if you murdered a village of quadriplegic toddlers." Willow looked up at Xander. "Friendly love," he corrected quietly. His hands caught hers to keep her from wringing them into shreds of skin. "Because we're out of each other's systems, remember."

Willow nodded, the air charged between them. Xander leaned forward and kissed her cheek. The corner of her mouth. The cupid's bow of her lips. Chaste kisses that trembled inside him. "Sorry," he breathed and his breath fanned across Willow's cheek.

Willow took a step back. "I wouldn't though," she said, after a moment. They resumed their walk.

"Wouldn't what?" Xander's brain was giving less output than usual.

"Murder quadriplegic toddlers." She paused. "Do I give off that vibe?" she asked.

"Seriously, Willow, I don't think that's a vibe." Xander laughed. "You'd have to wear a name tag. Hi, My name is 'Quadriplegic Kid Killer.' Kinda bad first impression though."

"I don't think I could spell quadriplegic in kindergarten," Willow mused as they continued their search.

"And I couldn't read it if you could. We'd still have become best friends."

"And that's all," Willow said firmly.

Xander nodded.

It had to be over, for good this time. Even if she never got Oz back, her friendship with Xander had to remain just that. Any romantic path they might have had was choked with their betrayal of other people. Some loves were no good.

_Spike growled low in his chest, an almost animal noise. Certainly nothing remotely human—or even wholly vampiric. Only those vampires prone to theatrics growled any more. Maybe his proximity to the wolf brought out some kindred response. It had been laughably easy to get at the boy. And Spike had laughed. A quiet chuckle of evil amusement. Until the whelp's childish threats and small fists annoyed him too much. He'd knocked the wolf-boy unconscious and resumed his prowl across Sunnydale. Now, they were back at the factory. He had chained the boy for the change. He didn't much like his odds against a werewolf under the full moon. The wolf couldn't kill, per se, lacking the opposable thumbs necessary to wield a stake, but he'd probably escape. And then where would Spike be? He needed the witch. And the witch needed the wolf. So Spike needed the wolf. Predator to prey mathematics. Now all he needed from the witch was a little lovelorn locating spell. She could do one of those, couldn't she? Find her wolf. Come to rescue him. She might bring the Slayer. She might not. Might be she wanted some private time with her wolf. To bring him round to love again. He felt a pang for Dru. Dust dust dust. Red would come. Eventually. Red would come for her dog. And if she didn't, he'd try a taste of wolf. Listen to his blood again. Might be this wasn't the big plan after all. The mutt made a sound of pain. Spike glanced over, not overly curious. Oh, the change. It looked painful. Extremely so. He shrugged and shook the small bottle of black nail polish. _

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

LIBRARY—THE THIRD NIGHT OF THE FULL MOON

Willow chewed her thumb nail down to the quick, hoping that the digging pain would eat away at her guilt. Absently, Giles batted her wrist, dragging her hand away from her mouth. "Disgusting habit," he muttered and repositioned his glasses on his nose. He glanced down at his watch and frowned.

Buffy clapped her hands together and stood. "Well, I guess I'm on Slayer duty now." She shrugged into her denim jacket and pulled her hair into a low ponytail.

Willow's heart trembled at Buffy's words and she glanced at the empty cage. She grabbed Buffy's arm and corrected in a begging voice, "Not _Slayer_ duty, right? More like, animal control." Hope quivered in her tear-spent throat.

Buffy pressed her lips together in a cheerless smile. "I'm sorry, Wills, but Oz is making a choice to be a danger to people. I'm taking the tranq gun, but if worse comes to worst…." Her voice trailed off ominously.

"Let me come with you," Xander offered Buffy. He placed a hand on Willow's shoulder. "I won't be any good in a fight, but I can shoot pretty straight and I'm excellent bait."

"Oh, Xander," Buffy sighed, shaking her head. "Using you as bait seems a little unethical and subject to you know, death-y failure."

"Wait just a moment," Giles interrupted. "It's not the most terrible idea."

Xander looked surprised, then pleased, then confused. "Why does that feel like an insult?" he asked.

Giles ignored him and turned to Buffy to elaborate a plan.

Willow couldn't attend to his words. Waves of misery rushed through her head, drowning out all else. She was worried about Oz, racked with guilt about Oz, desperate to make things right with Oz, and annoyed with her friends for having none of the answers. In almost a trance, she pushed away from the table and left the library. Dimly, she heard one of her friends saying her name, but she didn't turn back.

She went to her locker and spun the dial with the mechanical ease of habit. She withdrew a spell book and a knit satchel. Upon entering the chemistry lab, she spilled the contents of her bag on a counter. and switched on the Bunsen burner and began mixing ingredients in a beaker. She felt completely outside of herself. The only link between her body's movements and her mind was the word, the feeling, the presence of Oz. She placed the beaker of ingredients above the flame and concentrated her thoughts on Oz. She visualized his wolf-self, snarling, snapping, howling, raging, napping in his cage, transformed by the moonset into a naked, pale boy with thick, red hair, the greenest eyes, the most beautiful mouth.

The smoky haze of the heating solution took shape and became a circle with tiny flames within it—a map of souls. Willow squinted at the picture. "Just Oz," she said. Her voice was even, almost dead. All but one of the flames went out. "And me," she added. Her flame returned. She and Oz were so far apart. For a moment, her lip quivered. She jerked her chin up with a defiance and courage she didn't completely possess. But for Oz, she would. And she wouldn't tell Buffy and Giles. They wanted to use bait, they wanted to appeal to the animalistic, feral being that was not her Oz. They wanted to hurt him, even though he was hurt enough. She wouldn't let that happen. She would appeal to the man. She would remind him that she was his best friend, that she loved him. She would hold him in her arms and make it all better. He would forgive her and they would get past this. Willow wasn't stupid, though. After she made a note of his relative location and stuffed all her ingredients back in her bag and locker, she ducked into the library and grabbed up the spare tranquilizer gun. She fit it with darts. She looked down at her outfit—white overalls, a red turtleneck, and red and white sneakers. Not exactly werewolf-hunting/wooing garb. Willow shrugged and slung the gun over her shoulder. We can't all wear leather and earrings, she reasoned as she stalked from the empty library. She just hoped she didn't run into Xander, Buffy, and Giles while they were setting up and executing their Wile E. Coyote scheme.

She stepped into the warm night. The moon shone brightly.

_Spike threw the empty beer bottle against the wall just to hear it smash, but the glass tinkled like fairy frost. He kicked a crate and it slid across the factory floor and crashed into the wall where it splintered in two. That was more like it. He wouldn't be so testy if he weren't so bored. And he probably wouldn't be so bored if the chit would hurry the hell up and come for her mongrel. Or if he could have a drink. No one's bored when he's drunk. But Spike couldn't afford to let his defenses down around the witch. Hit me with a blender once, shame on you. Spike shoved himself out of his reclining position and considered the growling wolf shackled to the wall. _

"_Maybe Red's not love's bitch after all," he taunted the wolf. "Maybe she couldn't care less about you." He flicked his nose with his thumb and spit. Could the dog even understand him in that state? Probably didn't know his own name, let alone his girl's. Spike ambled closer to the werewolf, just out of range of his snapping jaws, and contemplated his options. If the chit didn't come for the wolf tonight, it probably meant she wasn't coming. Unless she was waiting for the next night when the boy wouldn't transform and she was less likely to die. Smart move. But when Spike considered what he knew of love, he rejected the idea. No, Red would come for her pet in spite of the danger. Hadn't he done just the same, coming the Hellmouth to save Drusilla? Granted, he hadn't banked on the Slayer being quite so dangerous, what with her resourceful Scooby Gang and all that rot. Maybe he should have left a note at the witch's apartment: Come alone or the wolf gets it. He winced. Kidnapping notes were too painfully crude, even for his direct sensibilities. There had to be some art involved. He knew he could make the witch do what he wanted her all while making it seem like her idea. That would make it a more worthwhile victory. To taunt her right before he pierced the ivory column of her neck. _And to think, _he would say, _you wanted to come here. _His mouth watered at the thought. Maybe he would even be gentle. Nips and sips. Maybe even have the girl after all in the best sense of the word. And the best part is, she would beg for it. The vampire's bite and gaze could have that effect. He liked that idea. The witch begging for him. _

_He kicked the wolf in the nose and it whimpered in pain. "Now, I hope for both of our sakes," he said as he strode away, "the witch comes tonight."_


End file.
